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When he called me… I thought I’d walk into his house and see him dead. He sounded so erratic; I was so scared he’d follow in his dad’s path for whatever reason. I was heartbroken to see him so upset.

I held him tightly, knowing he must have gone to the grave. I rubbed his back and tried to comfort him the best I could. He cried into my throat. I combed through his hair, knowing it all just hit him hard. He grew up thinking his dad was this incredible man, he was talented, and always there for him, played with him, taught him so much. In reality his dad was awful, to his mother.

“Harry,” I said after some time. ‘Your dad was a wonderful father, but a terrible husband.”

“How could I come from that?” he sat up, rubbing his face. “This entire time I could have been with my mom, been with someone. But no, I’ve been in that fucking house, living in the house where he’d beat her till she was black and blue.” He shook. “Why the fuck would he want me to know this?”

“He wanted you to know the truth. He wanted you to learn from his mistakes and I suppose if he did screw you up against women he wanted you to change. Didn’t you read the note at his grave?”

He shook his head. “God no, I can’t go there. I just want to knock his hedge stone to pieces.”

“You should go see his last note to you, read his grave.”

“I don’t care, I don’t want to.” He shook. “I wasn’t expecting this. I wasn’t… I don’t get it.”

“I think…. I think your dad was very broken in every sense of the word. I think he knew he was… I think he knew he was going to kill your mother. He said he needed to take himself away before he did something he’d really regret. I think… maybe in some sick way he thought by just killing himself he was still saving you a bit of pain at the time. It’s easier in an odd way to think your dad killed himself, rather than remember him as some murderer. Maybe he wanted to just… give you time and then one day know what kind of man he was. I think he wanted the truth.”

“Why?” his eyes met mine, and my heart shattered.

His eyes were wet, and pink, his face in a big frown. He had little ripples in his skin from a pouting, tears falling down his face. His voice was thick and shaky, soaked in sobs. I hadn’t ever seen him so broken, not like this. He was always so strong and tough to me, this was gut wrenching to see.

“I... I don’t know why.” He choked. “I loved him so much. He was my best friend. He taught me everything I know. He made me want to be a man. He tucked me in at night and read to me. He told me I could be anything I ever wanted to be. He kissed my knee when I fell off my bike and he’d make breakfast with me on Sundays.” He coughed, tears drowning. “He was amazing to me. He was my hero. It… he’s a monster. Does that mean I will be? It’s in the blood line-”

“No,” I held his face, wiping his eyes. “Harry Styles, you are such a good man. You have treated me with nothing but respect. Just because your dad was violent doesn’t mean you will be. You were never really exposed to that, and that really protected you in an odd way”

“I just want my dad back, the good one,” he sobbed, falling into my chest. I rocked him gently.

“I know, I know, I can’t imagine this Harry. I’m sorry,”

He held me, so tightly, completely breaking down. He was completely and utterly shattered. I hadn’t ever seen him like that. I didn’t know what to do. I knew he broke up with me, I had been devastated, but I’d gladly help him through this even if he didn’t want me anymore.

“Let’s go to his grave.”


“It’s time for you to get this off your chest, and tell him how you feel. You need to read that note, you need to see the inscription and understand that he did love you. You were the only thing he got right and he left before he could turn you into him. Come on, right now.”

He choked a bit and got up, wiping his eyes. He held my hand tightly, and he let me drive to the cemetery, he was a wreck. He was shaking a bit as we got closer and closer. He stood at the foot of the grave, with an empty gaze. It erupted into rage.

“You bastard.”

I kissed his cheek and started away, knowing I couldn’t be there for this.

I didn’t know what this would do to him, or if he’d cause him to spiral. Harry hated being alone, I knew that. He grew up isolated from his mother, with an awful woman, and then he was alone in a house. His dad took the chance he had to be with his mother away from him. His dad took the positive love he had for him away. Harry was broken, and I had no idea if I could fix him.

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